


loving him was red

by squishy (Snowingiron)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Dragons, Liam Snow, Louis Lannister, M/M, Multi, Niall Lannister, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Red Priest Harry, Sibling Incest, Smut, Trans Character, War, Zayn Targaryen, crooked teeth, messy POVs I'm sorry, spoilers for the last GOT season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowingiron/pseuds/squishy
Summary: Niall looks back when he runs from King's Landing, from his sister trying to kill him, from his brother that he loves so much. He always looks back until he meets a certain red priest. Now he doesn't know how to look elsewhere.(A messy Game of Thrones AU)





	loving him was red

"So you're the Crooked One," Zayn says but it doesn't sound degrading like it usually does when people call him that. No, it's free from judgement and full of curiosity.

"That's what they call me, but I prefer Niall," he answers, tongue consciously running over his teeth. 

The air is heated and makes it hard to breathe, sweat is gathering on his forehead that he awkwardly wipes away with the back of his hand. Zayn doesn't seem bothered, he just occasionally lifts his cup to his lips without drinking from it, his dark and intense eyes fixed on Niall. His face betrays nothing, there is no indication of what he's thinking and Niall knows that he's been training for it, that this cold mask is something born from experience, born from the terrors in his past. Niall is more sure than ever about what he's doing.

"Niall Lannister then. Why are you here? I'm about to leave for Westeros and destroy your family."

"I know," Niall answers calmly. "I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" Zayn seems genuinely surprised and lowers his cup into his lap. "Why would you help me?"

Niall swallows and tries not to look away, tries not to break eye contact because it could doom him. Then again, he's not in Westeros anymore, he's not in King's Landing where lies and a clever tongue are worth more than honesty, and he never was good at that. The only thing that has kept him alive for all these years was his Lannister name and his brother, his hero, his light. Here, none of that matters, not to Zayn, the Breaker of Chains, the Unburnt, the Father of Dragons. So Niall decides to be more like himself again, hoping that Zayn truly is what people say about him.

"I didn't want to at first. All I wanted was to get away from those who wanted me dead... but then I heard the stories about you, about what you did for the people and what you want to do. It was like one of those stories my brother used to tell me and I thought... I thought how great it would be if for once they were true. I was wondering if someone like you could heal Westeros from all this misery and torture I had to witness all my life. You made me wonder and... that's something I haven't done in a while. So if what they say about you is true then I do want to help you. I will serve you, if you'll have me."

Zayn stares at him with parted lips, eyes roaming his entire face like Niall hasn't just spoken with his mouth. He seals his lips again eventually, putting on another smile that seems more genuine and less calculated. "I see. And why do you think I need you?"

Niall has to try hard not to roll his eyes and before he knows it he does it anyway, snorting to himself. "Please, your Grace. You don't know anything about the land you're trying to conquer, nothing about the people who live in it. I'm not the best you can find but I'll always be honest with you."

"Honest," Zayn echoes and rises to his feet. "I like honesty." Then he offers Niall his cup with a small smile.

Niall takes it with a nervous glance, remembering how Zayn never actually drank from it. "I like honesty as well," Niall says eventually. "It's the foundation of trust, isn't it?"

Zayn nods and then looks at him expectantly. With a deep breath Niall lifts the cup to his lips and drinks, watching Zayn's smile widen in an almost gentle way.

It's the sweetest wine Niall has ever tasted.

*

It seems so long ago now that he stood before Zayn without the grown trust that is between them now. Niall doesn't regret coming here, he doesn't regret serving Zayn. Zayn's a bit naïve at times, idealistic and yet shy and anxious about the future. There was a time Niall saw him collapse and slide down the wall with his face buried in his hands, wailing about deaths he couldn't prevent, deaths he had caused. But Niall would rather have him shed a thousand tears than have him numb to the terrors of the world. They have enough kings and queens like that already. Zayn actually listens to what Niall has to say, always considering his words before he makes a decision and no matter how worried he is he _makes_ the decisions.

"I don't have anyone else," Zayn confesses much later into the small space between them. "I could never trust anyone else. My brother basically sold me to the Dothraki, you see? The offer was taken because I'm beautiful. It's what they always see... Westeros will be no different. They see either that or a foreigner trying to rule them." He sounds bitter and Niall touches his arm.

"They will see more than that. They'll see a skilled warrior and they'll know that there is a reason why so many are following you. They'll see your devotion and even your love. You won't be a rumour or a mystery any longer. They'll see you, nothing but you."

Zayn takes a deep breath and dips his head back against the chair, shaking his head. "How do you do it?"

"What do you mean?" Niall asks and moves to pour them more wine.

"You always make me feel better with your words and conversations with you are so effortless. I usually hate talking but you make me feel like I can tell you everything." Niall hums and hands Zayn his cup but when he tries to pull away Zayn's fingers shoot out to grab his wrist. "That means it's your turn. Tell me about you, Niall. Tell me why you're always looking over your shoulder."

Niall opens his mouth but quickly shuts it again, almost spitting it all out. That he always expects a knife in his back, that he can feel eyes on him at all times, that his brother used to hug him from behind with one arm over his shoulder before he would press one side of his face into the other to breathe him in, that he doesn't miss home but the idea of home and that it sometimes nudges at him, that he's looking for something, someone, who makes him stop looking back. But he doesn't know how to phrase it, doesn't even know if it matters, so he just drops into the chair next to Zayn with a sigh.

"I don't know, I suppose I'm just paranoid most of the time. Maybe that's why I'm still alive... You should try it sometime, your Grace. I know your dragons make you feel invincible but you're not. So I worry about you, too."

"You don't have to worry about me," Zayn says and nurses his cup with a thoughtful expression. "I won't fail, it's my birthright. I _can't_ fail. It's important and it is all I have left."

Niall watches him closely, sees the inner struggle that threatens to burst out of him like a flame, like a dragon's breath. He knows what Zayn is doing, he knows why he is doing it... Of course he wants to help people, wants to end the corruption, the lies, the deaths of innocent, but he's also doing it because he believes that he doesn't have a choice. He doesn't think he can walk away and live a peaceful life. The fire in his heart won't let him, he's been born with it and it won't let him die so easily. Compared to him Niall can be broken as easily as a twig and yet he feels responsible for Zayn, for his success, for his safety.

"It's not all you have left."

"It is. Before this my husband was all I had and before that it was my brother. He didn't prepare me for anything but he was still my brother. Do you miss yours?"

Niall snorts at the sudden question. He hasn't properly talked about Louis or his sister or anyone else since he left King's Landing. It either upsets him too much or hurts him too much. The distrust his family always had for him because he killed his mother on the day he was born is something that ate away at him all his life. It was like a knife driving into his spine painfully slow and all the shaming words and beatings would nudge it deeper. Maybe that is the reason why he was always sticking close to Louis. 

He remembers holding on to his brother's sleeve when he was scared, trailing after him until they called him Louis' shadow. And through all of that he had never once called Niall names, never been rough with him, never scared him. He's the one who held Niall when he was sad, when he was happy, no matter how rare those times were. He's the one who protected him from their father's rough hand.

But when Louis grew older, when he joined the Kingsguard and was considered a man, his attention shifted elsewhere and his eyes started to linger on their sister instead, on his twin. Niall knew then that he couldn't compete, that he shouldn't try and he never hated Louis for any of it. He can't hate his brother. So he remembers the fear he had felt in his dark and cold cell instead, the relief when Louis had opened the door with that mischievous grin of his, leading him him to safety. He remembers, oh he remembers the burn of Louis' lips on his cheek, those firm hands in the back of his neck and his desperately affectionate words. _Farewell, little brother_.

"I miss him," Niall declares, deciding not to deny it. "I miss him but there is no point. I won't see him again."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"I did something... after we parted. Something horrible. He must know about it by now... I don't think he wants me as his brother anymore."

There's a brief silence after that, in which Zayn shifts around in his chair and offers Niall his cup like he did the first time they met. But this time Niall takes it with a smile, without any hesitation because Niall doesn't trust easily but when he does he'll go through fire and ice.

"I miss my brother, too." Zayn admits when Niall hands the wine back to him. "He was awful but I miss him. That is just family, isn't it?"

"I could be your brother," Niall offers without thinking but he doesn't want to take it back. There's an emptiness Louis has left behind and Niall is still trying to fill it (with sex, with wine, with blood and war).

Zayn frowns. "I don't want you to be my brother."

Niall's stomach lurches. "Oh..."

"No, I..." Zayn leaves the cup on the floor next to him and turns around so he can look at Niall properly while he fumbles with something in his pocket. "I want you to be my close counsel, my voice of reason, the one who will tell me when I do it wrong." Niall's breath hitches when he sees what Zayn is cradling between his fingers. "I want to name you Hand of the King."

"I..." Niall looks at him with huge eyes.

"Don't say no. That would be rude." The grin that splits Zayn's face is too beautiful not to mirror it.

"I never was the rude one," Niall replies and then laughs. Louis is rude and he always gets away with it, no matter how old he grows.

"Good."

They both rise to their feet at the same time, trying to make this at least a little ceremonial, with a hint of sobriety. The brooch is light as a feather, the weight of the responsibility not dragging him down like he thought it would. It's an almost freeing feeling, like he can cut off all ties that are in the past, that make him a Lannister. Hand of the King is something he prefers to _the Crooked One_ or _the bastard who killed his mother_. So even though his body and his hands are shaking, his smile is not.

"Should I kneel then, your Grace?"

"No," Zayn says with a smile of his own. "Not you."

*

It hasn't been that long since Niall has seen the cliffs of Westeros so he's watching Zayn instead, how his eyes linger on the foraminous stone, the lush green of the grass that will be covered in white snow again at some point. His lips are parted in awe and the harsh wind of the sea stings in his eyes but he barely blinks, taking in the sight of the place he has been born in but never lived in. Niall can hear the dragons above them and then sees them rush past. They reach the land before them but they do not land, they only circle Dragonstone, waiting for Zayn to take the first step. 

"It's beautiful." The surprise in Zayn's voice makes Niall blink. "More green than I thought there would be."

"It will suit you," Niall explains. "Your dragons will feel at home."

"Safaa and Waliyha will. Doniya not so much," Zayn chuckles. "She prefers the hot sands of the Red Waste, she has seen all of Essos."

"Still," Niall hums. "She'll feel home wherever her father is."

Zayn tears his eyes away to gaze at Niall, like he's looking at him for the first time as well. Niall smiles back, knowing that only few people understand what Zayn really means when he calls the dragons his children. It's not just in a bonding sense, it's not for the dramatics or to spread fear among his enemies. He has given birth to them, has held them while he was surrounded by flames. He was the first thing they saw, the first thing they felt and it has renewed him in a way, too. Niall understands, even though he'll never truly know how it feels. He already knows that having children is not part of his future, nor has love any place in it and it took him a while to accept that.

(But he's lying to himself each time when he catches himself waking up hard and wanting in the middle of the night, thoughts filled with his brother's wicked grin, his teasing hands that still try to tickle him like a child even though they are both grown up, his eyes that match Niall's, a connection he has been holding on to for years. He doesn't know what it's like not to be in love with his brother so there will be nothing else for him.)

"What about you then?" Zayn asks, the salty breeze making his long hair on the top rise and fall into his eyes. "Will you call this place home?"

Niall shrugs nonchalantly. "I've never felt home anywhere."

*

Niall's breath catches in his throat when he sees him walk into the throne room. A red priest, Niall can tell, and he has seen them before though most of them had been women. This one is a young man with a robe in the deepest red that reveals his bare chest covered in ink, pictures of flames and words in High Valerian that Niall doesn't understand. His trousers are tight with his robe hanging loosely from his shoulders but the most prominent thing is the collar around his neck with a red gem sitting in its centre. Long brown curls fall around his beautiful face and Niall can't look away from him and his green eyes. 

"I'm a high priest of the Lord of Light, you might have heard of him," he declares in a deep voice, stretching every word like he's taking his time.

"I have." Zayn says from his throne with Niall at his side while Grey Worm stands guard a few steps further down, eyeing the priest cautiously. "There were red priests who helped me bring peace to Mereen. You're welcome here."

The red priest takes a deep breath. "I'm glad to hear that. These days you never know who remembers the good you did. Or when they do they slay you anyway because showing kindness has become a weakness in certain parts of this world."

"I'm not like that," Zayn says pointedly. "So what is your name?"

"Harry," he answers and Niall blinks. It is a strange name for someone of Mereen and he tells them while pushing out his chest and raising his chin with pride, like he named himself that way. "I was a slave once myself, so it's an honour to meet the Breaker of Chains."

Zayn nods and rises from his throne to walk down the steps with Niall on his heels. "I'm glad to see that you're not a slave anymore, Harry. But I have to ask why you came here, there are no followers of the red god in Westeros, are there?"

"No, but that doesn't mean they don't help to fulfil his cause," Harry answers with a grin that shows beautifully white and straight teeth. It makes Niall curl his upper lip tightly around his own crooked ones. "The Lord of Light blessed me with the sight and I am here to make sure his prophecies become true."

Niall feels the blood freeze in his veins. "Your Grace." Zayn stops in his track and turns around to Niall. "Prophecies are dangerous, especially coming from religious fanatics."

Harry's eyes fix him immediately, widening like he didn't even realise he was there until he spoke. Niall's initial curiosity and interest is turning into caution, no matter how pretty this priest is. 

"You've caught yourself a suspicious one," Harry chuckles in amusement. "It's a good thing to have someone like that, you should keep him."

"I intend to," Zayn says with a frown on his face.

"I agree that prophecies are dangerous, that's why I won't insist that this one is about you. I will only tell you that I believe you play a part in it."

"What prophecy?" Zayn demands.

" _The long night is coming and only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn_."

There is a heavy silence following Harry's words but his smile never falters and Niall isn't sure whether he wants to punch him or kiss him. 

"You think it is me?" Zayn shifts his weight from one foot to another, trying to contain his kingly pose.

"It could be you," Harry agrees. "But it could also be another, the King in the North, Liam Snow."

"Liam Snow?" Niall gasps. He remembers that boy, that man, so eager to join the Night's Watch out of the goodness of his heart. Most have no other choice, for them it's an escape from death or other punishment but Liam? He wanted to honour the family that didn't love him enough to give him their name. _What if your sense of honour will kill you one day?_ , Niall had asked when they stood on the wall next to each other, spitting from it like kings. _To stay alive isn't the highest goal to strive for._ Niall had thought him a fool but now he understands a little better.

Zayn turns to Niall. "Who is he?"

"Geoff Stark's bastard," Niall tells him. "I actually like him. He's an honourable man, that is all I can say."

Harry's eyes finally leave Niall to look back at Zayn. "He has risen from a bastard to Lord Commander of the Night's Watch to King in the North. He, who has united his people with Wildlings and has seen the horrors that lie beyond the walls. Meet him, talk to him. Ask him what he saw."

Zayn turns to Niall again, asking for advice with nothing but his eyes. 

"I agree," he says reluctantly. "Not for the sake of stupid prophecies but for the sake of gaining an honourable ally. You won't find someone like him in these lands."

He meets Harry's eyes again and this time the priest's smirk is challenging, like he dares Niall to question his words, his god, his entire world. Niall never felt the need to do that before but this man's words go deep under his skin, making him itch with foreign feelings. 

"Send for him then," Zayn decides and turns around, grazing Niall's arm with his fingers. "Tell him to come here and bend the knee."

There is a fire in Zayn's eyes, usually gleaming quietly. Now it is burning.

*

"Stop following me," Niall growls because now that the raven has been sent there's nothing else to do but wait and Niall likes to spend that time either with Zayn or alone while he roams the coast to look for something familiar that he can cling to. But he can't because there's always a red shadow in his wake.

"No one but the Lord of Light can tell me what to do or where to go."

"Is that your excuse for everything?" When Niall suddenly halts and turns around, Harry walks right into him, making them both almost fall over. Niall grabs at him to steady himself, feeling the muscles work under his robe when they reach out as well, holding on to his waist. He is taller than Niall and when he looks up at him Harry smiles. 

"It tends to work. It is easier than fighting your way through." His breath is hot on Niall's face and he can feel the warmth radiating from him.

"I disagree."

"Of course you do, you're a fighter and I'm not. I'm a lover." There they are again, his wanton eyes and words.

"A lover?" Niall croaks, telling himself to let go of Harry's arms but he can't.

"The Lord of Light is everything good and pure in the world. I preach love and kindness in his name to outweigh the long night that is coming for us. It will be dark and full of terrors."

Niall snorts and feels Harry's grip tighten, like he wants to make him listen, wants to make him believe with the press of his fingers. "Don't pretend you and your god are pure. I can see a dark spot even in you." He pulls back one hand to push one finger into Harry's chest. "All hearts are tainted, even yours. You can't hide that from me."

Harry stares at him, without any smile or grin for once, without calculation or arrogance. His gaze flickers between Niall's eyes before he slowly backs way, warm hands slipping away from his body.

"I didn't put it there," Harry almost whispers. "It wasn't my fault."

Niall suddenly feels sick at the implication of his words. "No... no, that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?" Harry hisses and his face twists with anger, red and hot, colouring his cheeks even further. 

"You're trying to sway the king. You're trying to manipulate him to suit your cursed prophecy. Where is love and kindness in that?"

"I'm not... I'm not trying to manipulate him, I'm trying to make him _see_. Fire cannot harm him, it runs through his veins like blood. He's a child of the Lord of Light, if anything I admire him and I want him to do good in this world. Why do you feel threatened by the Red God? Has the Faith of the Seven disappointed you? It's because they are not real. There is only one god and he is light."

"Do you really believe that?" Niall asks.

"You would believe it too, if you had seen the terrors of the night."

When Harry turns away with heavy steps, leaving Niall alone by the coast he feels like following him. He doesn't.

*

The tension that grows with each passing moment that Liam and Zayn are looking at each other is thick enough to be cut through with a knife. The boy has changed since the last time Niall saw him. His hair is shorter and there is a scar stretching over his eye and cheek, giving him a wild look in contrast to his almost soft face. He is still honourable but Niall can see that life (or death?) has changed him, that it sharpened his edges and also made him forlorn. There's a grave look in his eyes and Niall can see that it resonates with Zayn in a way that surprises even him.

They are only a breath apart when Zayn leans over, hissing at him. "You will bend the knee, eventually."

Liam isn't answering, but his jaw is clenching, his teeth grinding. He is used to shutting up so he can stay alive. But he's also a king now, so he doesn't break eye-contact until Zayn moves past him. It's Niall who talks to Zayn after that, who tries to reason with him, tries to make him understand that the question of who the rightful King is can be decided in the future, when they still have a future. But Zayn is stubborn in a way he's never been before and Niall doesn't understand. 

"Oh Niall," Harry purrs when they meet in the hallway with Niall leaning against the wall and Harry standing closely in front of him. "You're his counsellor but do you not know?"

"What do you mean?" Niall looks up at him in confusion.

"Who has ever been a true challenge for him? Who has ever been a real threat?"

No one, Niall knows that. Others have fought Zayn but he has never lost, never even been afraid of losing before. But Liam is as stubborn as him because he never had something to lose until now. The fate of Westeros is to be decided by two lost boys, Niall realises. 

"Are we doomed then?" He asks more himself than Harry but Harry answers anyway.

"I trust in the prophecy... maybe you should, too."

"Perhaps you're right," Niall says and Harry finally smiles at him again. Niall hadn't even realised that he missed it.

*

"Bend the knee," Zayn whispers with his forehead pressed against Liam's and a shaking breath escaping his lips.

Liam has his eyes closed with a stubborn frown like he's in pain but he is not, he's feeling good because Zayn's hand is buried in his trousers, squeezing and stroking his cock the way he loves it best. He knows what Zayn is trying to do because he feels himself trembling on his legs, his knees threatening to give out, give in, to worship the ground Zayn is standing on.

"I can't," he chokes out, gripping Zayn's arm as if to stop him but he doesn't, he just holds on to him, feeling the muscles move under his fingers. "My people..."

"Not your people, just your fucking pride," Zayn growls, trying to ignore the ache between his own legs. "What do you have to lose?"

Liam moans at one particular twist of Zayn's hand that makes him rise on his tip toes just for a moment, to escape the feeling that pulses through his veins, the hotness and the fire that Zayn radiates, that feels so much like home and Liam doesn't understand why.

"I'm a bastard," he says with his eyes closed. "It is all I have."

"You could have more," Zayn offers quietly. "You could have me."

Liam makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, against Zayn's lips, just a light brush that no one would call a kiss. He comes violently, with a harsh thrust of his hips and Zayn keeps stroking him even when Liam stops shaking, makes him squirm and whimper and Zayn has never seen someone submit to his feelings so easily before. 

It makes his heart roar with need and want, makes him look at Liam in a way he hasn't looked at anyone, not even his last husband. And when he pulls back his hand and makes Liam stand on his own two feet it happens. With half-lidded eyes Liam watches him as he drops to his knees, hitting the cold floor so quickly it must hurt him but he doesn't seem to be bothered, he immediately starts to tear at the laces of Zayn's trousers and pulls them down far enough to get his mouth on him.

"Oh," Zayn breathes and grabs the edge of the table with both hands, head falling back into his neck when the heat engulfs him.

There's devotion in the flick of Liam's tongue and obedience in the way he swallows him down his throat like he's done it before. Zayn almost feels a sting of jealousy of whoever got to feel or see him like this before. But soon all thoughts and doubts and worries are erased from his mind and he threads one hand through Liam's hair, pushing his hips forward because he can't hold back, Liam is such a beautiful sight.

(They both are, Niall thinks when he steps away from the door, swallowing hard with worry because he can see how attached Zayn is becoming, how poorly he chooses now in times of need. Liam will be a distraction, they will be a distraction to each other, so Niall will keep an eye on them from now on. He follows the corridor to his own room, haunted by the sound of two racing hearts.)

*

Niall is on top of the cliff again, thick furs wrapped around his shoulders to keep out the harsh wind. Liam said that winter has already arrived in the north and Niall starts to believe it. They'll have to make a decision soon, no matter if Zayn believes Liam's story about the Night King or not. He'll have to decide what kind of ruler he's going to be when he faces the Lannister army. And Niall? He'll have to decide whether he wants to witness it or not. He shudders at the idea and the cold, rubbing his hands together before he lifts them to his mouth to warm them with his breath.

"Here, let me."

He almost jumps when Harry moves into his personal space, cupping Niall's hands with his own. He's surprisingly warm, hot even, and when Niall looks up at him he finds himself speechless. Harry is still so beautiful, the wind is ruffling his curls but his smile doesn't falter and he keeps his eyes on Niall when he starts to rub his cold and trembling fingers, kneading his joints like he's trying to push the heat back into them. It seems to work because he feels the warmth spread from his fingers into his arms, his shoulders, and then it's taking over his whole body and his face. Maybe it is Harry, maybe it's his racing heart.

"How are you not freezing to death with those thin layers you call clothing?" He asks nervously, eyes briefly flickering to their joined hands before he raises them back to Harry.

"The Lord of Light keeps me warm. He takes the cold and the darkness away. Feel it." He lifts Niall's hands to his own face, lets Niall's palms cover his cheeks to let him feel the radiating heat.

Niall takes a deep breath and digs the pads of his fingers into Harry's skin, a gesture that makes Harry's eyelids flutter as he leans into the touch, cupping Niall's hand with his own. Harry closes his eyes then and sighs softly, shifting his head to press a fleeting kiss against Niall's palm. It makes Niall's breath hitch and his skin itch because suddenly he wonders what those lips would feel like against his own. Soft but also a little bit chapped and how does he kiss? Sweet, hot, possessive.

Niall takes a deep breath. "Will you just burn out one day? A fire needs to be fed... Do I want to know what it is that keeps you alive?"

Harry's smile turns into a grin and Niall can feel it against his hand. "Love keeps me alive. I collect love like others hoard trinkets. Even in this hell people have a lot to give, more than you know."

"Does it kill them?" Niall frowns.

Harry moves closer and Niall's fingers shift from his face to his neck, pulling him in without meaning to.

"In a way," Harry whispers no more louder than the wind.

Niall's throat is dry but his mouth starts to water at Harry's words, at the way his lips shape them. "Would it kill me?"

Harry nods slowly, cupping Niall's jaw as he runs his thumb across its soft line. "You're not part of the prophecy. You're not important... the Lord of Light won't care about your death."

Yet Niall finds that thought strangely comforting, fortunate even. He wouldn't want to lift the burden Zayn is carrying since the day he was born. It would make him keep looking over his shoulder and that is something he already does too often. He doesn't do it now, he's completely entranced by Harry's presence. He looks him in the eye, unafraid of consequences, and Harry looks back at him like he wants to say more but he doesn't, his eyes drop to Niall's mouth instead.

"You're mad," Niall states, his fingers pressing against Harry's pulse.

"You're just as mad for kissing me in spite of that."

Niall blinks. "I'm not kissing you."

"Oh..." Harry blinks back and then chuckles with a glint in his eyes. "Another prophecy then."

Niall doesn't even know what he's doing until he surges forward and kisses him hard on the mouth, but it's only hard because Harry meets him halfway, so eagerly, winding his arms around Niall's shoulders to wrap him into the warmth of his body. Niall wants to melt against him, into him, and then he does just that, with his head tipped back and Harry licking into his mouth, hands buried in his hair. 

It's not like Niall has never kissed someone before, he remembers all of his kisses quite well. Most prominently the prostitute his brother had bought him for his name day, the one with the red hair that was sweet and gentle with Niall, even though he wished his brother would've stayed. But not even that night is anything compared to Harry's hot mouth against his, both of them growing more heated on one of the coldest days they had in years. He can hear and feel Harry hum low in his throat when Niall slows down a little to put more effort into the kiss itself, to actually feel it. He is nauseous with how good it is, how good Harry smells and how good it makes him feel to have his mind go blank for once, not thinking of anything. Zayn, his brother, the war, even winter can wait.

His crooked teeth don't seem to bother Harry, not even when they bite into his bottom lip to tease him. He moans instead, raking his nails down Niall's neck, past the furs, and Niall shudders (with need, with hope, with confusion – why is he doing this to himself?), so he pulls away with throbbing lips even though Harry is chasing them, pressing their foreheads together like he's pleading for more.

"I want to keep kissing you," Harry whispers. "I want to kiss you until your brother fades from your eyes."

Niall, who has already pushed forward again, suddenly freezes like a pillar of ice. All the warmth and arousal is bleeding from his body, leaving nothing but the cold dead fear of being found out. 

He gives Harry a wide-eyed look and then pushes him away.

*

"And what kind of King do you want to be?" Niall asks, staring at Zayn and wondering at which point his gaze had turned so hard and unbent, so numb to the suffering and ruled by the idea that he must be like all the other leaders of Westeros in order to fight them. "It's not you. It's not you to scare your enemies by burning their families. That's not why you wanted to come here... your Grace."

He adds the last bit when he catches sight of Zayn's frown, his arms folded in front of his chest like a wall. It's just him and Niall with Liam sitting on the edge of the war table, watching them with curious eyes.

"They expect a dragon," Zayn finally says, voice not dripping with fire but ice. "Shouldn't they have one?"

Niall feels like he's talking to a wall and he wants to grab Zayn by the shoulders to shake sense into him but he can't. Because he realises that he's not the one to do it. He's the Hand of the King but he's not the one Zayn listens to.

"But they won't see a dragon," Liam raises his voice and Zayn's eyes shift to him immediately. When Niall sees the way they look at each other he feels like an intruder. "All they'll see is a shadow that swallows them and you'll be just like everyone else. They will fight you to their deaths and then there is no one left to rule. Make them believe in you, your Grace. That's the only way to earn this throne, the only way to earn the people's trust."

Trust. It's just a fickle thing and so easily betrayed, even with good intentions. Trust is something that has grown between Zayn and Niall over the last few months but somehow it has only taken days and one specific night for Zayn and Liam to hold conversations with nothing but their eyes. It's a rare thing, Niall knows. Yet he has never learned to trust so blindly or even dared to. No, that's not true. He remembers the look in Harry's eyes and how much he'd wanted to get lost in them, caution be damned. But then he had to mention Louis, the brother he loves, the biggest secret Niall had kept and what did Harry do? He just unfolded it in front of his eyes and scratched at it with his fingers. He touched Louis, in a way. The Louis in Niall's head, the one Niall wishes he could return to, the one that slowly gets replaced by green eyes. How did that happen?

And then he meets him again. His brother is the head of the army of course, with his golden armour and his dark hair. Lou is his twin sister yet he'd always looked more like Niall, a fact Niall has been holding on to for so long. Now he is just worried and watches his brother roam the lines of men, escaping the flames like he's not scared of anything (But Niall knows, Niall has always known about the things that scare Louis). 

Niall winces when Zayn and Doniya go down, a huge arrow buried in the dragon's shoulder. He's closer to the battle than he should be and if he could he would do more, he would fight, but Zayn forbade it with a press to his shoulder, telling him to stay back because it wasn't his battle, not yet. Niall's fingers still roam the handle of his sword, squeezing it tightly, ready to fight anyway. The flames do not scare him, fire has never scared him, not the blue fire in his brother's eyes, nor the green wildfire hidden in the depths of the sept in King's Landing. What scares him is Louis in the middle of all of it, seated on his horse and picking up a spear to charge at Zayn and Doniya. 

"Fucking idiot," Niall mutters under his breath and starts to run only a heartbeat later. He ignores his name being yelled after him and dashes across the field as fast as he can, wondering if he'll reach them in time, if he'll manage to prevent the worst. He can see Louis' determined expression and knows exactly what's going on in his brother's head. How his arrogance and the golden sheen is just there to cover up the softness of his heart, a tenderness that makes him ready to sacrifice himself for the kingdom he has sworn to protect in the name of his King, his Queen. Niall wonders if Lou will ever truly recognise how much Louis gave of himself.

Niall leaps forward, just as Doniya's scaly jaws open to gather flames in her mouth and turn Louis into ashes. The heat spreads across his back when he catches Louis sideways and drags them both into the water, deep under the surface where the fire cannot harm his brother. The armour makes it even harder for Niall to get them both back to the surface but when he does they're both coughing and gulping down the fresh air. Louis is staring at him with wide eyes, incredulous and raw and open. Niall is about to say something but then his brother's face becomes corrupted by rage and pain and he's lunging at Niall.

"You-"

"Niall." They both stop at Zayn's voice, so cold and harsh, and they can see a dagger clutched in his hand. "Move."

But Niall can't. He stays right where he is, as a barrier between Louis and Zayn's blade, one hand on his brother's arm while the other reaches out to Zayn.

"Your Grace, please..." Zayn stares at him. "Please."

"So you choose the Kingslayer over your King?"

"I'm not... I'm not! Just... please."

He stays on his knees with his forehead pressed to the ground, begging for his brother's life in a way he never thought he would. And Zayn, in his endless mercy, spares him. But Niall won't forget the hurt and the betrayal in his eyes.

*

"You killed our father," Louis croaks, fumbling with the irons around his wrists. "I promised our sister to kill you if I ever saw you again."

Niall tries not to feel hurt by it but it _stings_ , it's painful and he can barely breathe. "I'm not saying what I did was right but I'm not going to apologise for it." When Louis looks up at him with a frown Niall shrugs. "You know what he did. You know how he treated me... Do you think I... do you think I just did it because I'm a bad person?"

Louis growls in frustration and turns away, foot banging against the dungeon's walls like he's hoping it will give in to his anger. "No... No, you always were the best of us, that's why..." Niall can only see his back but he knows Louis is struggling. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"She told you to hate me, didn't she? She always despised me, she's always been cruel."

"Don't talk about her like that." He turns around this time, fixing Niall with a steady glare. "You don't know-"

"I know everything."

"You don't..."

"Louis." Niall's shoulders sink. "I'm just trying to do what's right."

"Are you in love with that Targaryen boy?" Louis asks with a smirk that Niall knows is false.

"Who cares about love?" Niall simply answers. "He's the best chance this godsforsaken land has. He is a good King and he cares more than all the lords of Westeros combined."

Louis huffs. "At least you're still loyal. Loyal to tender words and hearts."

"And you're still annoying," Niall snaps.

The grin Niall receives this time is painfully genuine, his eyes still wet with tears he wouldn't allow himself to shed, not for Niall, not for his sister, not even for himself. 

"I knew you missed me, little brother."

*

Niall is to Zayn's right at the war table and listens to everyone arguing among each other about what to do next. He's silent for once, worried that Zayn might not welcome his advice anymore after what happened. He's not showing it in front of his allies but he has not once looked at Niall or acknowledged his presence. All that is in Niall's line of vision is Zayn's sharp jawline, the grinding motion behind it, like a dragon ready to tear skin and meat from bones. 

"Burn him and be done with it," one of them says with a bored voice, waving their hand around in a dismissive manner.

"Rude," Louis comments with a roll of his eyes, standing proud and tall in front of the council, so very unimpressed by all the titles these people carry. "You don't even know yet how much gold I'm worth. Gold you could use to build your pathetic army."

"If I remember correctly, mine still stands while yours is burned to the very ground," Zayn answers and Louis' smile falters.

"There's a first time for everything. I won't be that unprepared ever again."

"Assuming you will get the chance," Liam says with a deep frown. "You're responsible for my family's death. My father is dead because of you."

"As is mine," Zayn adds. "Kingslayer."

Louis flinches at the name and takes a step back. Niall can see his wrists pushing against their chains. "You weren't there, you have no right..." He takes a deep breath. "If you're looking for someone who goes as far as to even kill their own father you just have to look to your right."

It's the first time all eyes settle on Niall and he feels the heat creep up his neck. He is not ashamed of what he did but Louis' stare makes him feel guilty. Before he can say something, before he can start to explain himself, a hand smooths its way along his shoulder, long pale fingers that have runes inked into them. Niall calms down almost instantly, his own hand twitching to reach for Harry's but he doesn't. 

"This is about _your_ crimes, Kingslayer. You're in no position to judge." Zayn stands up from his chair and flings away the little pins on the war table's map, the pins that represented the Lannister army. "You can either die or help us."

"Help you," Louis echoes and then snorts, lifting his hands to make his chains clatter. "I would, your Grace. But I'm a little tied up."

Zayn glares at him, dark brown against light blue, both refusing to give in. Niall realises that Zayn doesn't know what to say. He's never been met with someone who disrespected him like this, someone he couldn't just throw to the dragons, someone who knows his value in gold but not in relationships. In return it only takes one word of him to push into Louis' carefully built up wall. It's simply just this: wall against wall where Zayn and Liam are just fire against ice. And Niall doesn't know what to think of that, doesn't know what to say either. 

So when Zayn has Louis brought back to his cell and then dissolves the war council, Niall leaves with Harry's hand in his. The corridor is long and dark and he catches himself leaving for the dungeons again when Harry finally speaks (the first time since Niall's return).

"Don't," he says and makes Niall stop with a firm squeeze to his hand. "Don't do this to yourself."

"Why not?" Niall mumbles but turns around to face Harry. Harry, who still makes Niall feel vulnerable. It is a wonderful and a horrifying feeling, both at once.

"There are better things to do with your time." Harry steps closer with their hands still tightly clasped together. He reaches out with his other hand to smooth it over Niall's rough cheek. "You could spend it with me instead."

Niall's mind travels back to that moment by the coast, where he had pushed Harry away, out of fear. He is not sure what he's feeling right now and what does Harry even want with him?

“Why do you keep looking for me?" He asks eventually but doesn't stop Harry's hand that keeps exploring his skin.

"To make sure you stay alive. I was worried when you left."

"Didn't you see the outcome in one of your prophecies?"

Harry lowers his eyes with a forelorn expression, nails grazing Niall's pulse. "I tried not to pry."

"But then you did it anyway," he judges by the look on Harry's face. "What did you see?"

"Just myself. In your bed."

Niall can't help but laugh, a calmness in his chest that could easily be mistaken for the eye of a storm, something that is caused by nothing but Harry. He's never felt this way around anyone else.

"A mad idea."

Harry grins mischievously, using his whole body to back Niall against the wall. "How fitting then that we're both mad."

He sucks in a sharp breath when Harry's chest presses against his own, no thick coats or furs separating them this time. Harry's breath is hot against his mouth and Niall feels himself panting already, prepared to be eaten alive by the Red God and his priest.

"Since when am I the mad one?"

Harry gives him a pitiful look. "Oh Niall."

*

Niall can't look away. The way Harry arches beneath him is so beautiful, how he moans each time Niall rocks back into him with both arms placed next to his face. He has done this before but never face to face, never with someone who wants him so much that he's squeezing his legs around him, holding on to his back so he can't leave, can't stop. The bed is old, not made to fit two people, and it protests loudly but not louder than Harry when Niall pulls out.

"Why are you stopping, don't stop," he whines and uses Niall as leverage to quickly climb into his lap, to force him into a sitting position. "I'm not finished with you, I'll never be finished with you."

The things he does, the things he says, they send a foreign thrill down Niall's spine. It makes him want to give Harry everything he desires, everything he demands, even if it's Niall's still beating heart on a silver platter. He once thought that this only applied to Louis, that no one else could make him feel like this. And the aching is still there, still reminding him of what he wanted but could never have, yet Harry is scratching it away with sharp nails on his skin, replacing it with a pain that is less haunting.

Harry grinds into his lap with a luscious roll of his hips, head falling back to let out a groan that makes Niall's cock twitch inside of him. He curses under his breath and digs his fingers into Harry's hips, urges him on to chase his release. And Harry is rogue, wild, possessive, prying Niall's mouth open with his tongue to taste him, to lick behind his teeth. Niall truly feels like an unfinished matter and Harry is the only one to settle it.

He doesn't think of Louis in this moment, when he trails fingers over the ink on Harry's skin, when he follows it down, down, down to the small of his back and pushes them closer together, putting himself deeper inside. He sees nothing but his own reflection in Harry's eyes when they are only inches apart, breathing each other's air.

"That's it, Niall." Harry is trembling on his thighs as he slides himself up and down on Niall's cock. "Just look at me."

Niall nods at him with hooded eyes, so close already it only adds to the mad feelings building up in his chest, ready to fall apart and pour into every fibre of his being. He sneaks a hand between them where Harry's cock is trapped and strokes him fast along with Harry's own rhythm, face pressed into the crook of his neck. He's still wearing the necklace and it presses into Niall's cheek but he doesn't care, he sucks at the skin beneath it, makes Harry mewl loudly before he suddenly comes, squeezing tightly around Niall's length. He doesn't stop though, he keeps going until he's completely spent, until Niall comes as well and then it's just the two of them and their heavy breaths.

They stare at each other with vigilant eyes, Harry's hands loosening from around Niall's neck to cradle his face. It's him who looks vulnerable when he brings their lips together with a softness that makes Niall almost melt like a candle, burnt by the fire of a red priest (not blue fire, not dragon's fire).

Niall sighs when the tension falls off his shoulders and he quickly wipes his hand off against the sheets before he lifts Harry off of his cock. There's a whine rolling from the other's tongue when their lips part with a soft noise and then they're both lying cross the bed, Niall on top of him with one hand in his damp curls.

"I'm sorry I didn't trust you back then," he murmurs when Harry's eyes have fallen closed at the sensation. But now he's opening them again, solemn and free of prophecies.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you're beautiful." His throat is so dry it hurts when he swallows. "And beautiful is dangerous."

Harry hums sadly, ready to say something but then gets distracted by Niall's fingers running along his face. He pushes against them immediately, like he did on the day they kissed for the first time and it delights Niall to know that he's already figured out what Harry likes. He likes to be touched all the time, likes how Niall strokes his face or calls him beautiful. And in turn Harry knows exactly what Niall likes, though that is fairly easy. He just wants to be wanted for once in his life.

"I'll take it off if you want me to," Harry suddenly whispers when Niall's fingers trail over the necklace.

He seems scared and it makes Niall frown. "Why? What does it do?"

Harry squirms slightly and scratches at his own chest. "It's a gift of the Lord of Light... It shows on the outside who we are on the inside."

"I don't understand," Niall mutters.

"It gives me the power to be seen the way I want to be seen..."

It takes him a moment to figure out what he means, to make the connection. He remembers Harry's story that he told Zayn on the first day he came to Dragonstone. How he had been a slave in Mereen and Niall had already wondered about that since it was mostly little girls that were sold there. How the red priests he had heard about were usually women. It's little pieces that he's putting together now, confirmed by the tremor he can feel from where he's pressed against Harry's body and the trembling of his fingers as he fumbles with the clasp of the collar. Niall stops him immediately, grabbing Harry's hands before he can take it off.

"Don't."

"But you deserve to know. I know everything about you, you deserve to know everything about me. The real me."

"But it's not." Harry's mouth snaps shut. "This is the real you. If that's who you are on the inside, then it's you. All of you. I wouldn't force you to go back."

He expects the tears that gather in Harry's eyes and even the sob that shakes his body. What he doesn't expect is the rush of heat that hits his skin when Harry lifts off the bed to wrap his arms around him and roll them over. He smothers Niall with sloppy kisses, wet eye-lashes brushing against his skin before their lips meet. They kiss until they taste of each other, until their faces are red from heat and dizziness, until they are grinning and laughing from it.

"You have a good heart," Harry whispers and Niall wants to believe him.

*

"Will you forgive me? Eventually?" Niall asks with his back against his brother's cell door. He knows Louis is resting on the other side, head probably tipped back with his eyes closed. It's how he liked to sit against the trees back home while listening to the sound of peace, so far away from the war in his head.

Louis doesn't answer for a long time. "You said you don't regret it."

"I said I wouldn't apologise and I'm not. I just want _your_ forgiveness."

There's another pause and Niall pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his elbows on them with his head hung low. He can hear Louis' half-laugh and then, "why?"

Niall sighs. "You're my brother and I love you, so I don't want you to hate me."

There's a small thud on the other side of the door, Niall can feel it against his back.

"I can't hate you. I never wanted to make you feel hated in the first place. When you were little and... the fostress would sometimes just ignore you because Lou was yelling I thought... I thought it was my responsibility to keep you safe. I thought I'd die if I didn't. But she's my sister, Niall. We shared a womb, so it only made sense to share everything else with her as well. I admit that there were times I forgot I was a person of my own... A person who doesn't hate you like she does."

Niall's breath hitches and he's glad that Louis can't see him, can't see how he's barely holding it together. "I'm sorry."

"Stop it, Niall. She only hated you because I loved you."

He shakes his head. "I'm still sorry that you felt the way you did. I'm sorry I could never make you feel like there was another way." He hates how desperate he sounds and Louis' response is nothing more than a whisper, smothered by the wood between them. "What did you say? Louis?"

But Louis stays quiet and then he huffs loudly, muttering more things under his breath, things that seem important and other things that seem unimportant. "I forgive you and I still trust you, all of the Seven be damned."

There's a breath he has been holding ever since he killed his father, ever since the crossbow slipped from his fingers. It's a weight that is gone now and leaves his heart raw and open. He wishes Harry was here to work his fingers into his skin and flesh, to rub the soreness away until it's warm and full of unspoken affection.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now tell those moving statues you call guards that I want to speak with Zayn."

*

Niall closes the door behind him, leaving Zayn and Louis alone in the king's chambers. Zayn is draped over his chair with one leg lazily thrown over the other and a cup of wine dangling from his fingertips. He looks Louis up and down, takes in how filthy he still is, like a beggar from the streets who walks like a king. His mere presence irritates Zayn so he just lets him stand in the middle of the room, wondering why he agreed to let Louis in unchained. It annoys him even more how he still trusts Niall even though he betrayed him. 

"What is it that you want?" He asks eventually.

"Well..." Louis stretches the word unnecessarily long. "First and foremost I'm here to see for myself why my brother thinks you are so great, why he believes you're a better king than anyone else could ever be."

Zayn can see that they are brothers, that they are not only alike in appearance but also in mind. They both want Zayn to convince them, no matter his reputation. They always thirst for their own proof.

"I'm afraid that I'm in no position right now to give you a demonstration," he says with his chin propped up on his knuckles as he stirs the wine in his cup with a small roll of his wrist.

Louis squints at him. "Of course... must be hard to fit three of the largest dragons Westeros has ever seen into this small room. Or is there anything else you can do? On your own?"

There it is again, the heat that threatens to consume Zayn from head to toe and it's caused by nothing but meaningless words and an arrogant grin. The instant need to open his own jaws and bite and breathe fire almost wins. He's a dragon and no one really understands what that means, how it affects him.

But Zayn is not taking the bait. “It must be hard, not knowing what it's like to have power through your words. They follow me because I treat them well, because I earned their trust and because they believe in me. They cannot be bribed with gold and empty promises. A foreign feeling for you, is it not?"

Louis' grin freezes in place and Zayn knows it just stays there out of spite. So he gives a little grin of his own, lifting his cup to his lips, his eyes never leaving Louis'.

"Not too foreign. I've seen how trust can be lost, how belief can crumble. You only need to treat them well once and they will always come back, no matter how little you care for them afterwards. They always chase the memory of the good. It's foolish hope and foolish men die in these lands. Ask your _good friend_ , the King in the North."

Zayn suppresses the rumble in his chest at the mentioning of Liam. He had only left a while ago, leaving Zayn sore and breathless in the sheets, saying goodbye with a kiss to his neck that trailed down his spine to the dimples at its bottom, whispering how he loved them _endlessly_. He's had lovers before, a husband even, and he's been the centre of affections and could do nothing but brush it off his shoulder. He's never felt the urge for a mate so strongly, not until he met Liam. It's something that burns in his entrails and it confuses him how Louis' presence invokes something so different and yet so similar. One stems from wonder while the other stems from disgusted fascination.

"I will ask _you_ though," Zayn says eventually and rises to his feet, not bothering to hide the bruises Liam left on his neck and collarbone when his robe falls open. He's wearing nothing underneath and he almost wants to laugh at how hard the other man tries not to look. He's almost sweating with it, jaw clenching and unclenching and Zayn finds himself wanting to dig his fingers into the hollow of his cheeks to pry his mouth open. And then do what? He forces his thoughts to stop right there. "I will ask you what you would do if you were king."

The question seems to confuse Louis and he takes a step back, frown tugging at his forehead. "What?"

"What would you do, if you were king, if you were on the Iron Throne, if you had all that power and everyone's will at the tips of your fingers, what would you do?" He turns away as he speaks, filling his cup with more wine. Has no one ever asked him that? Has he never thought of it before?

"I would never sit down on that cursed piece of iron. It has seen more blood than the battlefields. No, I'm..." He takes a deep breath. "I serve... that is my purpose."

Zayn looks over his shoulder to catch Louis' stern expression that is directed at the floor, hands no longer by his side like a proud knight. Now they are clasped in front of him, like a servant. Zayn's mouth goes dry and he quickly gulps down the wine from his cup before he leaves it behind and closes his robe, crossing his arms over his chest to keep it that way. 

"You served my father but you killed him. Perhaps you are no good at what you do."

"He was mad," Louis says dismissively. "You weren't there and don't act like you're tearing up about it like a poor child. You didn't even know him."

"I didn't," Zayn agrees, "and you're right: I don't care about him. I only care about those I can help, those who are still alive."

"Seven hells," Louis rolls his eyes and his body goes along with it as he shakes his head at Zayn. "No wonder Niall likes you. You actually believe what you say."

"Is it so _hard_ to believe?"

"It is."

"Why?"

"People are not good. Kings and queens are even worse than peasants." He stops himself for a moment, face shortly taken over by pain. "Everyone is a sinner... all men deserve to die."

"That is a very sad way to look at it, Kingslayer."

Louis' sharp eyes suddenly meet his, a hard gaze that would never fit Niall's face. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" Zayn raises his eyebrow. "Calling you Kingslayer?"

"It is not my name."

"It is. We never choose our own names, all of them are given to us by someone else. By a father, a husband, or by history."

"It's not a name, it's a title and I can reject it."

"Why would you?" Zayn circles him slowly and he notices how Louis goes rigid, how his hand searches for a sword by his side. "Kingslayer is such a strong name with so definite implications. You only killed one king but it made you famous for the rest of your life."

"Stop it," Louis repeats, a little more breathless this time. 

Zayn licks his lips when Louis' turns his back to him and the fire is back to overtake his skin and his whole body. The tragedy is that he doesn't want to burn on his own, so he pushes himself into Louis' personal space, dragon's breath grazing the nape of his neck. "Kingslayer."

Louis' reaction comes instantly. He swirls around to grab Zayn by the throat, anger rolling off of him in heated waves. He pushes and pushes and Zayn lets himself being pushed until the small of his back hits the edge of a table, making it shake from the impact. 

"Kingslayer, Kingslayer," Louis hisses. "Why are you so obsessed with titles? Is that all you are made of? Zayn Stormborn, Father of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, King of the Andals and fucking everything else. Titles are one moment in your life and they mean nothing." It's hard for Zayn to breathe with Louis' fingers pressing fiercely into his skin but he's doing nothing to stop him, he just holds his gaze. "You're just a boy like I was just a boy and the things you did will haunt you," Louis says and when his grip loosens slightly Zayn sucks in a deep breath and curls his fingers around Louis' wrist.

"Looks like you still are that frightened little boy." He meant for it to sound mocking, scorning, but it comes out sad instead, his voice strained as they stare at each other with wide eyes.

Zayn is not sure who kisses who, not sure if it can be called a kiss when all they do is grab at each other's faces and bite into the other's lips. It tastes of wine and sweat and copper and Zayn craves it, demanding more when they part shortly to take a breath. "More," and all Louis says is "yes", before he slips both hands underneath Zayn's thighs to lift him on the table, leaning forward to fling maps and cups out of the way. He easily strips him free of his robe, hands roaming his skin with a shameless moan and Zayn parts his legs further, pulling him in by his unclean linen shirt.

Louis is touching him where Liam has touched him, kissing him where Liam has kissed him, and Zayn isn't holding back for once, giving in to the urge sitting in his chest that erupts with a deep growl. His hands twist in the fabric of Louis' clothes, pulling and tearing until he rips it all off, until he can follow the scars on Louis' skin. He doesn't look, he's only touching with his eyes closed and tongue licking into Louis' mouth. It's hot where they're pressing together and Zayn realises that they are too much alike, that it's what makes him want to crawl up the wall every time Louis opens his mouth. But this time he can prevent him from talking by biting into his lip and making him groan instead like he's in pain.

He enjoys all of it far too much and wraps his legs around Louis' hips when he starts to rut against Zayn. It's full of need and confusion, as messy and clumsily as their movements and Zayn wants to shift closer, wants to be close enough to the edge of the table to give more room for Louis' fingers that still press into his thighs. And yet he is afraid... Zayn is always afraid of his own feelings and desires, he fears they'll consume him and the world, so he tries to be kind instead. But Westeros is making it really tough for him to be kind. Just like Louis.

Louis, the Kingslayer. If he had a sword he could strike Zayn down, he's just another king after all. Liam could be next. Louis is a constant threat to royalty and it makes the heat tighten in Zayn's abdomen, makes it curl around his spine until he arches, makes him _bend_ and then he's spending himself between them, pushing himself over the edge with the thought of Louis killing him – it makes him shudder.

When he calms down enough he crushes their mouths together and sighs through his nose, feeling Louis stroke himself until he crumbles into a thousand pieces, coming all over Zayn's stomach with a muffled shout. Their lips rest loosely around each other's, trading breaths and noises that fill the silence of the room. Louis is the first to move but not out of the way, he simply shifts his head around to press an almost gentle kiss against Zayn's mouth. The tenderness confuses him but he returns the kiss nonetheless, feeling slain, body and mind, just like he did with Liam. He wonders if Louis would kneel for him, too. If Zayn could make someone like Louis want him, follow him, then there is nothing he has to fear.

 _Kingslayer, Kingslayer, Kingslayer_ , he chants in his head and then it's tumbling from his lips as well, almost like a term of endearment but Louis is having none of it.

"Louis," he whispers between kisses. "My name is Louis."

*

In the morning Zayn looks for Niall and pauses when he finds him lingering by the coast. He knows that Niall does it often to brood about life and look for answers in the depth of the sea. But today his back is turned to the water and he smiles at the red priest with their hands entwined, touching like it's something rare, something important that crosses borders and skies and realms. Zayn has never seen Niall like this and his heart aches with affection. If he can let Niall have this, maybe he can let himself have this, too.

"You were right," Zayn tells Niall later that day, leaning over the edge of his throne.

"About what?" Niall asks.

"About your brother." _You're forgiven_ , is what he means.

Niall swallows hard. "Thank you."

*

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Niall doesn't mean to sound so hurt but he can't stop himself. He's grasping Harry's deep red robe between his fingers, tugging at the fabric like a stubborn child.

At least Harry is looking at him, layers of guilt overtaking his face. Niall doesn't understand, he said he wanted to support Zayn, so why is he leaving now? It makes Niall feel stupid for believing he wouldn't be alone anymore, cheeks tinting red with embarrassment.

"I came here to bring fire and ice together," Harry explains and lifts his own hand to rub over the soft skin of Niall's neck, like he's trying to console him. "And I did... though it isn't the way I expected it to be... There are three now instead of two."

"I don't care." He doesn't care about prophecies, doesn't care about summer or winter, not when Harry is his bonfire, his beacon that he feels so drawn to.

Harry sighs deeply. "I know it means nothing to you but I'm needed elsewhere."

Niall wants to step away, wants to harden himself but he can't. If anything, his grip on Harry tightens. "So you're not just leaving, you're leaving _me_."

Harry makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat and then both of his hands are on Niall's face, holding him still. 

"Niall," he whispers into the silence of the dark corner they've retreated to and Niall feels like this is a conversation they should be holding in his chambers. "I would love to steal you away from here, take you to foreign places and find out what happiness looks like on your face." He takes a deep breath. "But you still have your part to play in the final song that will end the night."

"But you said I'm not important," Niall insists with a whine. "You said that my life doesn't mean anything."

Harry suddenly smiles at him with so much fondness, fingers pressing against his temple before they slide down his cheeks and cradle his jaw. "You're the low tune that no one pays any attention to but without you the song would be incomplete. Your king still needs you."

Niall does not cry because he hasn't cried in a long time, but he lets himself be pulled into Harry's arms and buries his face into his shoulder to breathe in the scent of sandalwood and fire. He will miss it, he will miss everything about Harry and the way he made him feel. He hopes his presence will somehow linger, hopes it won't make the loneliness come back like a wave crushing down on him with the stubborn intent to drown him. 

But there isn't enough time to memorise every little thing he wants to remember about Harry, no time to leave enough marks on his skin so he won't forget Niall either. But he helps him onto his horse, hands lingering on his leg for a moment before he steps away to take his place next to Zayn. Liam and Louis are there as well, with a few guards waiting next to them.

"I hope your god keeps you safe," Zayn declares and Harry nods in gratitude.

"Thank you, your Grace, but there is no hope, only knowing. I know what I saw and I know what you will achieve together."

"If you're so sure of it, why aren't you staying?" Liam frowns with his arms folded over his chest. He still doesn't trust Harry.

"This is not the only place that needs guidance from the Lord of Light. I'd love to stay and be selfish but I can't." His gaze flickers over to Niall then and their eyes lock instantly. "Niall Lannister..." He never liked the Lannister name but he loves the way it rolls from Harry's tongue. "When this is over and you're still alive, walk south and never turn back. Keep walking."

Niall frowns, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Why? What will I find?"

"Me," Harry says softly, his voice almost breaking, "waiting for you."

Niall feels his heart jump into his throat, knows that all eyes are on him but all he can do is gape with an open mouth as Harry turns his horse around. It's good, it's something, a flicker of hope, even though Harry just told them that there's no such thing as hope. Only knowing and not knowing. Maybe it means he'll see Harry again, far away from all of this. 

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes so he doesn't have to watch Harry leave. A moment later, Zayn's fingers find his wrist to squeeze it.

*

"We won't be alive for much longer unless we all fight together against our common enemy, we can't win if we war amongst ourselves. Don't you trust me?" The gaze Liam regards Zayn with is desperate and so intense, Niall feels like it's something too intimate and too private for a war council.

"Of course he does," Niall answers for him. "But if it's still hard to believe for him, all of us, then how do you want to convince Queen Lou? She will have your head on a spike before you can even open your mouth."

"Excuse me," Louis pipes up from where he's been busy play pretending on the war table's map by shoving around little figurines and flags. "We're not putting heads on spikes anymore, it ruins the view on the city."

Niall buries half of his face in one hand and suppresses a groan. "Not helping, brother."

Liam's dark eyes flicker to Louis, a hint of annoyance and jealousy. Niall wonders if he knows what Louis and Zayn did, wonders if it will change the way they are. Niall knows of course, not only because he stayed behind after closing the door, waiting around the corner to find out if they would try to kill each other. It certainly sounded like it at first but Niall recognised the way Louis moaned, has heard it a thousand times before when he was hurting himself by spying on his brother and sister. He also knows because of the way Louis looks at Zayn.

But Niall is alright now, he didn't shatter like he thought he would. Maybe it was just him, but maybe it was Harry taking up more and more room in his head, filling in the gaps and making him realise that he was complete all along. And the other three? Zayn and Liam and Louis, Niall doesn't know what to think about it. He has to be smart for Zayn, has to plan for the future, if they'll have one. This can complicate things.

"I'll go back to the north then," Liam declares eventually, his voice strangely calm. "I'll go beyond the wall and bring back a White Walker to show you and everyone else that they exist, that the Night King is real."

Niall watches Zayn's fingers curl around the armrests of his chair. "I have not given you permission to leave."

The tension grows like weed, eating away at the trust between them, that is still as fickle as the world around them that knows no constant. Liam straightens himself, lifting his hands from table he had been leaning on to take a deep breath.

"Your Grace, with all due respect: I don't need your permission. I'm a king and if this is what I need to do, I will do it."

Silence is falling for a few moments in which all they do is look at each other and then Louis clears his throat, loudly.

"I'll go, too. Not to the north that is, I'll go back to King's Landing and talk to my sister." He tries to look confident when his eyes meet Liam's. "If you find the proof, I will give you the chance to show it to her."

The surprise on Liam's face almost makes Niall laugh but he keeps it inside, he just grins to himself. 

"So you're both leaving then," Zayn says while rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip, looking through his lashes like a dragon who wants to protect his hoard, like a king worrying about his harem. "I already lost my allies from Dorne and the Iron Islands. I can't lose you too."

"Your Grace," Niall whispers to him, even though there is no point in it. "It's our only chance."

Zayn must know it, and for once he leans back and listens to Niall.

*

"I should never have listened to you," Zayn hisses as he walks up the hill where his dragons are waiting and adjusts the furs around his neck. "I should've gone with him."

"Zayn," Niall yells and quickly catches up with him to take his arm. "You're our king, you can't risk your life like this, not now, not without an heir."

"I will never have an heir," Zayn shouts back and tears his arm away. "And maybe it is meant to be that way, maybe all I'll ever have is this life, without any legacy, without a name that carries on into another century. But I won't spend this life alone, Niall, I won't punish myself like that again. Liam was right to go because a king should take risks, should be at the front of the army and be ready to die for his men just like they're ready to die for their king. Your brother said something very similar to me, you see? I can't just rely on others, I can't just rely on you. I'm the one who has to do it."

Niall presses his lips together for a moment, feeling ill. "If not even the king is planning for a future then what can the rest of us hope for? Was all we did so far for nothing?"

Zayn's shoulders sink. "One day you'll stop looking back, Niall. You'll stop wondering and pondering the 'what if's. I'll have to do the same eventually. But now I have to go, because what if I don't? I can't lose him. Now go back and take care of my armies, take care of my people until I return, that is your task as the Hand of the King, is it not?"

He doesn't let Niall answer, doesn't give him time to think and when he leaves on Doniya's back, Waliyha and Safaa follow him close behind. Everyone just follows Zayn and it's a quality that Niall admires. He invokes something in people, makes them discover something about themselves that they've never seen before. He wonders what Louis and Liam found.

And what did he find out about himself? Nothing. He just misses a certain red priest with a mad grin and dimpled cheeks. Harry had told him that the red god was love, that he collected love and counted it like a thief would count coins. He had also said that it would kill Niall eventually.

 _I will love you to death, until you're old and withered and so, so happy_.

*

When Zayn closes his eyes he sees Safaa again, how the spear pierces her scales, her heart (with his own heart shattering along with it). He can see her crashing into the ice and being drowned by the cold that Zayn feels in his own chest. He is trying to hold it together because if he lets go he might just tumble and fall into ruins forever. He holds Liam's hand instead, waiting for him to wake up, because losing his child and his lover all in one day would be too much.

If that's what Liam is, if that's what he wants to be. He has slept with Liam curled around him, has given him just as many tender kisses as there have been rough kisses, all of it in the middle of a war. A war from all sides and from the inside, a war that Zayn knows will never really end, even when the prophecy from the red priest says something else. Zayn had not believed him, not one word, but he also hadn't believed Liam's stories about the Night King and now this figment has killed his dragon. He sucks in a sharp breath and presses his forehead against the back of Liam's hand, trying to force his thoughts elsewhere, just far away from the battlefield.

Liam wakes up eventually, looking at Zayn with so much grief and so much remorse, apologising over and over again without mentioning what for. But Zayn doesn't care and leans forward instead, kissing him without too much weight, without crushing him, but they both crush anyway and Zayn hopes that they survive it because he's been lying to Niall. He does hope for a future.

*

Niall hasn't seen his sister in so long, he barely recognises her. Her hair is so short, the usual colourful dresses are gone and replaced with a dark grey. She seems as unbending as iron and he thinks that maybe they've come here and risked everything for nothing. She won't listen, she won't care about what lies beyond the wall, not with that look in her eyes that is trained on Niall like the only thing she still wants to achieve in her life is to kill him. She doesn't look elsewhere until the White Walker is set loose right in front of her and only one thin chain protects her from being eaten alive.

Louis who is right beside her jumps in fear, staring at the monster after Liam cut it in half and yet it still crawls forward, trying to fulfil its twisted purpose. Fire and dragon glass is what kills it eventually but Lou's eyes are still fixed on it like it might come back to life in a second.

"We're just here to put aside the question of who should rule this kingdom to make sure that there is still a kingdom left to rule. If we do not fight the Night King now this will be the fate of every living soul in Westeros." Liam sheaths his dagger and steps forward. "It will happen to you as well."

"So it's a truce that you want," Lou speaks slowly. "Until this army of the dead is defeated."

"I've seen them," Zayn says next. "Fighting them together is the only way to fight them at all."

"How many?" Louis asks, as pale as Niall had turned when he first saw the creature.

"Ten thousand," Liam answers him.

It makes Lou laugh. "Ten thousand? We cannot defeat so many, not even with our soldiers and your army of savages combined." She rises from her seat and looks from Liam to Zayn. "If this is what's coming for us, then we'll prepare for war, but the crown will not accept your truce."

Niall is not surprised and yet he still huffs in annoyance when she walks away and Louis just fucking follows her with the look of a kicked cub. But he can't just stay back, he can't let it end like this, so he dashes forward to stop Louis with a hand on his shoulder.

"You have to talk to her," he insists. 

Louis' gaze flickers between him and her, showing Niall how torn he feels. It's like Lou has erased the change in him and forced him back into blind loyalty. Niall wants to vomit.

"I already did but she made up her mind."

"Then talk to her again."

"I can't. I can't, Niall."

He stares at his brother, pulling back his hand and flexing his fingers. "So you are going back to her, you're not coming with us?"

"I... she's pregnant, Niall," he whispers and Niall curses under his breath, shaking his head because how can his brother be so blind?

"Even if she is-"

"You think she's lying?" Louis frowns deeply, a stubbornness that doesn't surprise Niall. If he had lost all of his children as well he'd give anything for a second chance.

"I think she's desperate and I think she knows how to play you, brother."

"Shut your mouth."

"I won't. For once I won't." When he looks past Louis he can see Lou linger by the gate, her eyes fixed on them in suspicion and in that moment Niall makes up his mind. Maybe Zayn was right, maybe they all should take matters into hand. All Niall had been thinking about was staying alive for the mere possibility to see Harry again. But maybe that is not his fate, maybe his little life doesn't count in the long run and all he can be is a short jump over a great abyss. "I'll talk to her."

Louis flinches. "No. No, you can't, she'll kill you."

But Niall is already moving past him, trying to tear his arm away when Louis stops him. 

"Let go of me, I mean it."

"If you go in there with her I cannot protect you," Louis says, voice laced with pain. Back then Niall would've given everything for Louis to look at him like this, he would've treasured this moment and taken it deep into his heart to let it fester there. 

"You can't protect me and I don't need to be protected, don't you understand? No you don't, but that's my fault. I've made myself small and vulnerable whenever you were near because..." There it is, right there in his throat, trying to push its way out and taint whatever is left of their relationship. Louis looks so confused, giving a little shake of his head.

"Because what?"

Niall decides then that it doesn't matter, nothing matters anymore, not the risks he's taking, not Lou's burning gaze on them, not even Harry. He will unburden himself from all of this so he can go on light feet for once, so he can lift his arms and protect himself from whatever is coming for him. 

But for now he'll take this and rile up Lou even more because if he's going to die at least it should be worth it. He takes Louis' face in his hands and pulls him close until he can fit their mouths together and finally taste him. It gives him a warm feeling right there in his stomach but nothing more. There are no raging flames, no winds to knock the breath out of him. It's just a kiss and he ends it faster than he thought he would, pushing himself away without another word to finally meet his sister. 

He tells himself not to look back but he does it anyway. He catches his brother staring after him with an even more confused expression on his face. _Still a fucking idiot_. How can he not have known? But he knows now and Niall will go without any secrets left.

*

He doesn't expect for it to go so well. He doesn't expect to still be alive. His cheek is throbbing where Lou has slapped him, insulted him, spat at him. Niall had asked what it was that made her hate him so much and it seems it were the little things. His responsibility for their parents' death, always being in her way, the fact that Louis was not supposed to love anyone but her. She's seeing enemies on her doorstep, enemies in her bed and some of them are even in her own head. Niall pities her in a way and watched as she wept on the floor, clutching her stomach to protect something that isn't even there. 

Eventually she accepted the truce, but only on one condition: Louis had to stay with her. So it's just him and Zayn and Liam on the ship with all of their followers and Niall wonders if it's enough to beat the Night King.

"What you did was very brave," Zayn tells him with a proud expression, wind tangling his hair and making him look like something from a dream. He could never fall for Zayn but he understands why everyone else does.

"Don't know if there was much bravery in it, it felt more like I had nothing to lose."

"You have just as much to lose as everyone else, Niall." Zayn is not looking at him, eyes fixed on the sky instead where only two of his dragons are flying in circles. "But I feel like I should throw you into the dungeon since you almost made me lose my Hand. You just acted on your own."

Niall shifts around uncomfortably. "You could do it... but I think you would regret it and release me within an hour. I've done worse than that before without your permission."

"That much is true." Zayn is showing him a hint of a smile. "But please, don't ever do that again."

"I try. And I'm sorry Louis had to stay back."

"Well," Zayn and Liam share a look but he's still talking to Niall. "I have a feeling it's not the last time we see him."

*

And it isn't. It takes a few more days back on land, when they're already on their way north, before Louis appears in Zayn's tent. It's in the middle of the night and he's is not wearing his armour, he's just dressed in soft fabrics, clean and beautiful and Zayn wants to drag him into his bed, the bed that Liam is still draped over, barely covered by the sheets. His eyes are watchful and he looks at Louis carefully, like a wolf ready to kill. Zayn wants to ravish them both.

But he has to do what is right instead of doing what he wants. "I feel like you shouldn't be here. I feel like your presence is breaking a truce. Don't make me call the guards."

He's already turning back to Liam and his bed but Louis snorts in that irritating way that Zayn has missed so much, though he's not ready to admit it.

"I came here to warn you. Lou had no intention of ever holding this truce. She wants to take back the land you already conquered as soon as you turn your back on her."

Zayn's whole body stills and he meets Liam's widening eyes. Poor, foolish Liam, who always wants to believe the best of people no matter how much chaos they created, who still believes in honour and love when all of it already crumbled to dust around him. Maybe that is why Zayn wants to be around Liam, so he's not drowning in the cynicism he has found on the road so far. Liam is a rock and it keeps him grounded when his dragons call for him.

"Of course," Zayn mutters and shifts around, meeting Louis' eyes. "I shouldn't be surprised. Are you?"

Louis seems uncomfortable, but it's not the situation, it's just that he didn't notice Liam until now. Does he feel betrayed? Does he feel like Zayn owes him something or that he owes something to Zayn? There is no debt between them and Zayn doesn't want him to be here if the only thing he feels is obligation.

"I was. For once I thought she was genuine but she wasn't."

"So what are you doing here?"

"I came here to warn you," he repeats like something he rehearsed on his way here.

Zayn doesn't look when Liam huffs behind him, he keeps his eyes on Louis instead. "Is that all?"

Louis swallows and steps closer, reaching out with his hand to carefully touch Zayn's elbow. "I didn't know back then. When you were in King's Landing and Safaa was missing... I didn't know that she was dead."

Zayn's breath rattles like splinters of a broken heart that got caught in his lungs and he squeezes his eyes shut. All the memories he had so carefully pushed aside come rushing back to him and he feels Louis' fingers trail up his arm, his shoulder, until they rest on his neck.

"I know what it's like to lose a child," Louis whispers. "Three children."

And when Zayn glances at Louis he can see the same pain reflected in his eyes, the same guilt of a father who blames himself because he failed to protect his child. It's haunting, deafening, numbing, all at once, but Zayn wants to feel something, he needs to feel everything. He leans in to kiss Louis, to share some of the pain with him like he did with Liam. Liam was so eager to ease his heart and mind. _Put it on me, I can take it_ , he had said because he couldn't stand to see Zayn suffer.

"I don't want him here," Liam suddenly whispers into his neck. He's kneeling on the bed now, so close to where Zayn and Louis are still kissing and it makes them shiver and tremble. He knows why Liam despises Louis, why he fears him, but Zayn will show him that it's all done and over, that there's nothing to be afraid of anymore. What did Niall say? _You make peace with your enemies, not your friends_.

Zayn slowly draws back from the kiss but keeps his hand on Louis to pull him into bed with them. Liam scoffs as he winds his arms around Zayn like vines, so worried that he might be left out. But Zayn does it all with intention and reason, he won't leave either of them behind and he will show them. He trades kisses with Liam first, open mouthed and so raw it makes Zayn feel naked even when he isn't. Kissing Louis is always about owning, about biting into skin to hold on and it's hard to stop but he needs to. 

He already feels both of them drawing closer, fading out the other to just concentrate on Zayn and his already sore mouth. His kisses become shorter after a while, so they start to chase his lips every time he turns to kiss the other, their heads drifting into the same direction until they bump faces. Zayn smiles in victory when they turn heir heads and realise how close they are, noses brushing and eyes so scared.

"It's alright," Zayn whispers, hands on their necks to guide them closer together. 

There's a shift in the air around them, full of fire and ice and something in-between, something that makes them all melt together. Zayn's breath hitches when Liam finally closes the gap to kiss Louis. Their mouths fit together perfectly and Zayn can hear them gasp, hear them moan, hear them give in. It thrills Zayn and makes his heart soar, it's all he ever wanted since the day he met both of them. It's all he'll ever want, with the way Liam and Louis grab at each other, like it's painful but something they need at the same time. 

Zayn doesn't mind to watch for now, he just leans back on the cushions in nothing but his trousers and lets his eyes trail over the tight seam between their bodies, where Liam's naked skin presses into the soft fabric of Louis' clothing. They are perfect on their own but even more perfect when they're together and Zayn not only wants them for himself, he also wants them to have him. And that is the most foreign feeling he has ever felt. He had always been owned by something or someone, no matter how much he loved them. 

He had always felt caged in a way, by his titles, his destiny, his husband, his lovers... The only times he ever felt free was when he rode on the back of his dragons. He didn't think he'd ever relive this feeling with his two feet on the ground but he does now, and the sight of Liam and Louis growing more and more eager as they devour each other leaves Zayn hard in his trousers. He presses down on his throbbing length with the heel of his hand, knowing that he won't be able to hold back for much longer.

He doesn't have to when they tear their mouths away and turn their heads to look for Zayn. He reaches out for both of them by instinct and they crawl over in mere moments, barely giving him time to get comfortable before they're both on top of him, kissing his face and his neck. He knows they want to leave marks and he will let them, he will count each bruise like stars, retrace the shape of their teeth they leave behind. He will leave some of his own and maybe he will even call them his mates. Maybe there will be a future with all three of them in it.

"Alright," Liam whispers against Zayn's neck. "He can stay."

Zayn smiles.

*

Each day they move further north the sky turns darker and the winds grow colder. Every time Niall looks up and watches the change he recalls Harry's deep lazy voice mumbling 'the long night is coming' like a chant, like a prayer, like he was longing for it. He supposes it's only natural to seek out the terror you know is coming when you're also certain that it will end one day. It saves the dread of waiting but maybe it also stops you from living your life at its fullest.

There's something else Harry had whispered into his ear when he had explained his religion, his god. Hell is the place they are in right now, this very earth they have to roam until the day they die. Only then will they proceed to live in peace with the Lord of Light. _I don't want to go there anymore,_ Harry had moaned with Niall's crooked teeth buried in his flesh, claiming him, stealing him back from the Red God. _Mineminemine_. But Niall didn't understand and lifted his head from where he was tormenting Harry's skin, giving him a curious look. _I'd stay in this hell with you and love you far into the long night. I'd ask the Lord of Light for my own death so I can follow you into the dark._ It was the first time Harry had talked of love and indulged both their fantasies of being together.

Looking back at it now he wants to slap himself for not saying anything in return, for not voicing the feelings that were coursing through his body in that moment. He's cursing himself for not letting those feelings bleed over Harry until he was all in red, hair and skin, too. Because all he clings to now is a promise, a prophecy. It distracts him from the army of dead that is marching their way but also painfully reminds him of the direction they're going. Niall thinks that maybe he will die here in Westeros, where he has lived most of his life. He killed his mother on the day he was born, so it's only right to save lives on the day he dies. He thinks Harry would be proud of him nonetheless.

But right now he feels unable to move and wheezes as he clenches his hands around his knee that is burning up like someone set it on fire, a pain that spreads into his whole leg. That's why he's outside sitting on a barrel but the cold air is not doing much for his old war injury. He keeps telling himself that it's over, that it's done, that the wildfire is gone and the scars are just a reminder but sometimes it doesn't help. It keeps hurting and he squeezes his eyes shut while trying not to whimper.

"Again?"

He lifts his head to see Louis in front of him, barely covered like he's just been crossing tents. Niall knows of course which tent it is that he's looking for, knows what the thin coat of sweat on his skin means and the faint scent of sex. But there's no jealousy anymore, no gut wrenching desire that would make him follow his brother anywhere. But it reminds him of how much he misses to be touched, how big of a hole Harry's absence left behind. He didn't think he'd feel that way, they didn't know each other for very long but he wants to learn more about that strange man and his ridiculous view on the world. He made Niall wonder but not he way Zayn had made him wonder. No, this is going beyond.

"It happens," he presses through his teeth and then watches Louis going on his knees to replace Niall's hands with his own, rubbing over the aching joint as he looks into Niall's eyes with concern.

"Never happened without a reason. What are you thinking about?"

Louis' hands are too warm but his touch is soothing enough to calm Niall down and stop his racing mind. There is too much he's thinking about, too much he doesn't _want_ to think about. He's scared and not used to share those feelings with others, he's not used to trust, not even his brother. 

"We're all thinking about the same thing," he settles on eventually. "My fear isn't more important than everyone else's."

Louis smiles sadly at him and even though he's shivering by now, the sweat on his skin cooling him down rapidly, he doesn't stop. "I know you don't want me to protect you anymore... but I want to. You're my brother."

They haven't talked about the kiss yet and Niall feels like there is no need to. But Louis looks at him differently now, like he finally figured out his little brother, like everything he ever did or said finally makes sense.

"You're my brother," Niall echoes. "Maybe I'm the one who wants to protect _you_."

And that is just it. Two brothers smiling at each other right before the war, realising that they probably won't see each other again once it starts. But there's no need to say anything because everything's been said, everything's been done. They won't be able to look after each other the way they did when they were little.

"Alright," Louis whispers and moves his hands up to cup Niall's face and hug him to his chest.

Tears well up in Niall's eyes and he clings to Louis like it will be the last time he'll ever be able to do it.

"Alright, alright," Louis repeats and presses a kiss to his forehead before he pulls away. "We'll be fine."

"I know," Niall whispers. "But I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too."

Niall stays back and watches Louis enter Zayn's (and Liam's) tent. He'll miss them all, no matter how it ends up.

*

Zayn stares him down like he did the last time Niall was betraying him. But this time it's more sadness than anger in his eyes.

"You don't want to be Hand of the King anymore?"

Niall winces. "It's not about that... but I haven't really been good at it anyway, have I?"

Zayn picks at the armour Niall has helped him into just a moment ago. In the sun he'd look like a beacon of hope but all the light they have these days is coming from candles and torches and dragons. Niall can hear the faint sounds of death approaching them. They are so close and Niall feels like his heart might just fall out of his own armour.

"You were the worst," Zayn agrees with a smile. "Which probably made you the best."

Niall snorts. "The expectations were too low it seems."

"It seems so."

"I can't stay, even if I survive," Niall clarifies, he wants Zayn to _understand_. "I need to go-"

"South." Zayn nods to himself. "I remember what he said and I remember the way you looked over your shoulder when we walked back, you couldn't even help yourself. I thought you would leave me right then and there."

"I wouldn't," Niall chokes out. "I swore it to you."

"You swore a lot to me but there are only few promises you kept. Which means I don't want you anyway, I'll release you from all oaths, now and forever." When Zayn's hand comes to rest on Niall's shoulder he looks up at him. "You don't have to fight. Louis even asked me not to let you."

"Oh, but I have to. You still need me."

It's the first time since they came to Westeros that he sees tears prickling in Zayn's eyes.

"As my friend then?" He asks carefully because he's the king and kings never know who their friends are.

Niall smiles softly. "As your friend."

*

There's blood running down Niall's skin. It mingles with the sweat gathered in the small of his back as he raises his sword made of dragon glass to cut off a dead man's head. He's half rotten already but there's nothing left to vomit in Niall's stomach, he just turns around to face another enemy. He hasn't seen Louis since the start but he knows he's somewhere leading an army like he was born for it and maybe he was. In the sky he can spot Zayn on Doniya and Liam on Waliyha, blowing walls of fire into a crowd of White Walkers. But they keep coming and Niall knows every time he kills one of them he's taking one step back. They are pushing and he doesn't know how long he can push back.

*

It feels wrong to sit on a dragon's back when brave men die on the ground but Liam knows that Zayn needs him up here. He feels the connection between himself and Waliyha, Valyrian words falling from his mouth so easily now. The flames feel too hot for him and he has to close his eyes every time the dragon dives down to let another wave of fire roll over the army of dead. 

They have come so far and Liam is still so full of hope because even now that he's facing death he's never felt more alive. There was a time when he had been so utterly alone, a time when he had died for doing the right thing, but now? He has his siblings back, he has Zayn and even Louis. Every single one of them is a reason to keep fighting, a reason he didn't have back then when he was faced with the word _traitor_ on a piece of wood. The spark of life has returned to him and he's holding on to it as best as he can. 

But it all comes crashing down on them when they hear the distorted roar of a third dragon, when they see blue fire crossing red fire to cut right through their own lines of men. Liam's heart cracks when he recognises the colour of the dragon's scales and he can only imagine the pain Zayn must feel at the sight of his child's body being abused like this. If Liam had children he might've felt the same. Or maybe he already does.

*

Niall's vision turns red but his heart doesn't pound with fear. Red is Harry's robes between his fingers, fabric so soft one might think him a noble, though he knows very well that he isn't. Red is Harry's flushed skin and the colouring of his cheeks, like autumn blushing for the approaching winter. _Why red?_ Niall had asked. _Red is love_ , Harry had answered. Red is the blood gushing through the small gaps between his fingers, soaking the snow beneath him. Red is the fire thrashing around him and a hand reaching out for him. _Not yet_.

*

Louis can barely breathe and his arms are shaking from the weight of his sword. It has always been heavy in his hand but never like today. It's Valyrian steel and he remembers Liam touching it with lingering fingers and a careful frown. It was forged from his father's sword, no, his uncle's. Liam turned out to be a true king of his own, not a bastard, not a Snow. But he wants to keep that name in the face of winter, wants to harden himself enough to win, to survive. _How did you name it?_ Liam had looked at him like his heart was heavy. The truth is, the sword didn't have a name, but something came to Louis' mind anyway and it tore itself out of his throat so easily. _Fire_ , he said, the opposite to the name it had carried when Geoff Stark was still wielding it. _Ice_.

Liam had smiled at him with a nod before he opened the belt that kept the sword on Louis' hips, letting it slip to the ground without care. _May it serve you better than it did him_. The kiss Louis received left him breathless, left him aching and wanting and they kept kissing until Zayn found them and joined them with slow hands climbing up their bodies. When he had been with his sister it always felt like too much, even though it was just them, even though it was a secret. But with Liam and Zayn it feels like the right amount of enough and it stops the screaming inside of his head, stops the world and all nightmares at once.

It's enough but the sword is still heavy and he's worrying about his brother whom he hasn't seen in far too long, who could be dead on the ground already. He can't see the dragons anywhere, can't hear them roar, can't see their fire. But they must still be alive, otherwise he wouldn't be able to raise his arms. He wonders if Lou worries about him, too. She was ready to kill him when he said he would leave to keep his promise but she's not the woman he used to know, not the sister he shared a womb with. To be fair, he isn't the same either.

"Stay together!" He yells behind him but the thousands of warriors he had lead into this war had quickly shrunk down to a few hundreds and now he can only spot a handful of them. They look defeated and cold and angry and Louis feels all of that too but it keeps him going. They gather around him like a shield and he doesn't know why they are doing this, they don't even know him. Dothraki, Unsullied and honourless houses scattered across Westeros, they came together for their kings, not for Louis. But they protect him anyway and perhaps it's just orders but Louis takes it. He lets their courage fuel his own and raises his sword again to cut into another White Walker. One by one falls around him but he refuses to pull back, refuses to be pushed to the edge of an abyss he could fall into. It's just instinct, a strong conviction that he has to cut through no matter what. 

And when he finally does, he's all alone and panting heavily, his breath the only one visible. Everything else is dead and he's met with piercing blue eyes that faintly remind him of his own, of Niall's. For a moment he thinks it might be fate to stand here in front of the Night King in nothing but his armour and with a sword called _Fire_. Perhaps it's fate and he's not afraid.

"You are the _Night King_ ," Louis says loudly, gathering every bit of his strength to lift his sword one last time (it will be the last time, no matter how this ends). "They call me the _King_ slayer and I am very pleased to meet you." His voice reeks of sarcasm but the dead piece of meat in front of him doesn't pick up on it, obviously.

All the Night King does is draw his own sword as he approaches Louis. He doubts either of them ever lost a fight but the pain that explodes in his left shoulder is nothing compared to the satisfaction of his own sword sinking into the Night King's chest, right where his rotten heart is. Louis grins wildly, used to pain and injury where the White Walker isn't. Because that's all he was, all he is and now he's nothing.

Louis is not the prince who was promised but he made promises of his own and now he has kept them.

*

Niall sucks in a sharp breath when he opens his eyes to a grey sky instead of a black one. He's still in pain but it's so pleasantly silent, no steel meeting steel, no sound of people drowning in their own blood. It's peaceful and Niall winces when he picks himself up, hand still pressed to his wound. 

It's over. He knows it is. 

But this isn't his world anymore, with the soft fall of snow and the cool air on his skin. He's looking for something warm, almost burning, a place where the sun is rarely absent. 

He never was a child of winter.

*

"No one found him then?"

"No one, your Grace."

A third voice speaks up. "He is not dead."

"How can you know that?"

"He said they didn't find a body."

"But we don't know for sure."

"No, but let us believe it."

*

A man is weaving his way through a crowd of people who are yelling at each other, haggling for the best price. It's been months and he still feels the pull in his side coming from his badly healed wound. There was no time to stay, not even time to make sure the ones he loved are still alive. But he already heard the whispers from across the narrow sea, a wedding of three and a new king. That's all he needs to know so he keeps walking with a pounding heart, making sure to stay south by following the sun. He has crossed wastes and cities already, keeps looking for the colour red on skin and clothing, keeps asking people but they never hold the answer he wants to hear. 

The man's name is Niall Lannister and he doesn't find what he's been searching for until the day he stops trying. 

His breath catches in his throat when he sees a familiar head of brown curls and green eyes that find his so easily. He limps over with scars and lines on his face that haven't been there a year ago but Harry recognises him anyway, a smile stretching across his lips as he opens his arms. Niall falls into them so easily, their bodies crashing together like no time has passed at all and Harry holds him so close, Niall suspects that his words back then might have been a lie. Harry didn't know, he had only been hoping, foolishly like everyone else. But there's no clever line on his lips now, no profound prophecy to make him seem mysterious, he looks like all words are stuck in his throat instead. 

Niall eases the pressure by bringing their mouths together, a sense of _finally_ filling him up and making him feel lighter and happier than he's ever been. Because now he can stay, everything will last a little longer than before and perhaps there's even something to call a future. Harry's arms squeeze Niall tightly like he agrees, their kiss so full of longing it might last forever.

*

And Niall never looked back again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mess. I'm a mess. I hope you're a mess, too ❤ MESSY HALLOWEEN!


End file.
